


A Hand to Hold

by gaysquared



Category: Fairy Tail
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Breeding Kink But Not In The Way You Think, Breeding Kink Lite, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Erza needs a hug, Infertility, Jellal and Erza Friendship, M/M, Morning Sex, Porn with Feelings, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Subspace, Trauma, and so does Jellal, background Milliana/Kagura, possibly, soft praise kink, sometimes we deal with bad shit in weird ways
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-18
Updated: 2019-01-18
Packaged: 2019-10-12 08:52:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17464364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gaysquared/pseuds/gaysquared
Summary: Jellal finds out that all the former slaves of the Tower of Heaven are infertile. He and Erik deal with it in their own way.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is weird but??? I just felt very compelled to write it. This takes place a few years after FT ends; Jellal and the rest of Crime Sorciere have been allowed back into society bc the council, probably. AKA, I basically just told 100 Year's Quest to fuck right off, but I usually do that with canon. Jellal and Erik have been together for a while, so they're a little more vulnerable with each other.
> 
> The state of technology in the FT Universe is very confusing but I went ahead and gave them semi-modern medical technology bc reasons. There's no way every average person in the FT universe can go to a Healer who uses magic, given that very little of the population actually has magic in the first place. So I'm assuming actual doctors and nurses exist. Jellal and Erza are besties.

Jellal hears the sound of the kettle whistling, and it’s barely a moment later Erza emerges back into the dining room with two cups of tea. 

  
“Mint for you,” she says, setting his cup on the table in from of him, the mug baring scratched, warbled chrysanthemums. “And green for me,” she adds, taking a seat across the small dining room table, only a few feet between them.    
  
“Thank you,” Jellal says politely, even though this is somewhat of their usual routine. “You wanted to talk?”   
  
Erza laughs a bit, puffing out air into the mug raised to her lips, and sets it down. “I was thinking of asking you about your week first, but sure, we can get right down to it.” She shakes her head, still smiling. “We can visit now, you know. Not in the middle of battle anymore.”   
  
Jellal nods, gives a small smile in acquisition. “Mirajane’s well?”   
  
Erza clears her throat. “Yeah. Yeah, she’s at the Guild today, you know. She’s been putting in extra hours because... Just because, I guess.”   
  
“Oh.” Jellal sips his tea, soaking in the warmth of the cup in his hands. “And you’re okay? With that, I mean?”   
  
Erza gives a grimaced smile, and nods. “With that, yeah.”   
  
Jellal puts down his mug. “What’s wrong?”   
  
There’s a moment where Erza just breathes, smoothes her loose hair out of her face. “Ah,” she says, “Millianna and Kagura have been trying to get pregnant.”   
  
Jellal blinks. “Oh. Good for them. Right?”   
  
“Yeah, no, it’s—“ Erza gives a genuine smile. “I’m happy for them. It’s just, uh, apparently Millianna found out she; she can’t. Have a baby, I mean. She’s infertile. And I guess the doctors didn’t really have an explanation for it.”   
  
Jellal swallows, anxious confusion growing in his stomach. “I’m... sorry to hear that.” His lips part, and he breathes. “I guess it’s not really of my concern, but I am—“   
  
“It might be, though,” Erza says, interjecting. “Of your concern. It really, uh, might be.”   
  
Jellal looks at his friend curiously, unsure. “It might?”   
  
“Shô got married,” Erza says, in a big rush of breath, like she’s trying to force it out.    
  
“That’s... a good thing, right?”   
  
Erza swallows, looking pale. “It is, she seems sweet, I think, I—“ A big breath. “He’s sterile too. They found out almost a year ago.”   
  
“I don’t—“   
  
“And something in me just knew, Jellal, so I went in,” Erza looks so pained, her face almost pleading. “And what do you know?” She starts nodding, hard, jaw set, her hand shaking around her mug. “Yeah. Just.” She looks down, as if at herself, and Jellal sits in a frozen worry he can’t shake.    
  
“They don’t know why,” she continues, curling in on herself a little, bringing her knees up to her chest in her chair. “It’s not genetic. My hormones are normal. I don’t have any disorders.” She gives a pained laugh, head tossed back. “I’m not even sure I could do kids. But they told me, they told me, it was like something... something had interfered with my development. Like stress, or trauma, or something they couldn’t see. Like magic. And that’s why.”   
  
“You think it was the Tower?” Jellal says quietly, voice a little broken. The guilt he’s been barely learning to manage rears its ugly head in his chest.    
  
Erza is nodding, eyes red. “Jellal, I wouldn’t say anything, I promise I wouldn’t, but you have to understand, gods; two is a coincidence, but—“   
  
“Three is a pattern,” Jellal finishes for her. “Erza; I. I’m so sorry.”   
  
Erza shakes her head, reaching across the table to hold his hand. “It’s not your fault. Whatever damage was done was finished long before you did anything, alright? And besides, I wanted to let you know, because... I do— I. I think you should get tested.”   
  
Jellal looks up at her face; so open, vulnerable; and doesn’t know what to say. “I don’t; I can’t even imagine having kids—“   
  
“I know, I know, and I get it, right, because it’s terrifying when you’re already so fucked, and,” Erza has to pause to breathe, shaking her head. “But. Just to know, at least. And...”   
  
“Erik?”   
  
“You live with him, Jellal. It’s been three years since you got to come back to society after the war.” Erza seems to wince, biting her lip. “He should know, too. I just think... you’ll start wondering. And you’ll want to know.”   
  
“You think so?” Jellal asks, a deep croak in his chest.    
  
Erza looks him in the eyes, face open and compassionate. “Yes,” she says. “I think so.”   
  
_   
  
Jellal goes home that night, and doesn’t say anything. He’s quiet as Erik slips into bed next to him; the domesticity of it all still bewilders him sometimes, he’ll admit; and stares at the man as he settles under the covers. They have a rule about no listening in on Erik’s part; not unless Jellal says otherwise. Jellal is unbearably grateful in that moment.    
  
“You’re kinda cute when you’re pensive,” Erik says softly, and Jellal gives a small smile.    
  
“I think that’s all the time, then,” Jellal jokes. Erik gives a deep chuckle, and pulls him in close.    
  
_   
  
It takes him two weeks to call on Erza. She was right, of course. It only took days before the curiosity, heavy and overwhelming, had started to settle nervous in his stomach. He books an appointment the next week out, and asks Erza to come with him. She says she would’ve insisted either way.    
  
It’s moments like this, Jellal thinks on their way to the clinic, that he’s happy they didn’t end up together. He still loves her; even if it’s different, even if it tastes different on his tongue to say it. But it’s good. There’s a depth, a clarity that comes with being her closest friend he could never find in loving her before, but he has that now. And he wouldn’t trade the world for it.    
  
And Erza is so happy with Mira, even if Mira seems to always watch him a little closely; not out of jealousy, it seems, but something else; something else Jellal can’t understand. And Erik... Jellal can’t really think about love properly anymore, at least not being in love, but that’s probably what they are, aren’t they?    
  
They spend so many quiet nights together, and Jellal never stops thinking how; how adorable it is when Erik quietly gets frustrated with something, brow knitting when he can’t figure out a recipe or his next move in solitaire, cards laid out before him. The tenderness there; it’s the kind that says, _I could do this forever beside you_ , and Jellal thinks that’s what that is; being in love but also companionship, the way people stay together. Jellal remembers not even batting an eye when Erik said “we.” “We should should get a new blanket for the bed,” he’d said, and Jellal had thought, oh, that’s right, our bed. And it’s “we” a lot now, and Jellal can’t ever bring himself to mind it.    
  
Erza helps him get checked in at the clinic, hugs him before the nurse takes him into the back. He follows the nurse down a long hallway, until she stops, handing him a cup shrink-wrapped in plastic.    
  
“We don’t need much,” she says, writing something on her clipboard. “There’s magazines if you need help. Just get what you can in the cup, seal it, put it in this bag—" she hands him a labeled plastic bag, barely looking up at him, “and come to the nurses station over there, then we’ll get your sample processed and be ready with the results in about ten minutes.”   
  
“Alright,” Jellal says, anxiety bubbling in his stomach, and the nurse swings open the door to the room in front of them. He walks in, a bit off-put by the sterile white walls.    
  
“See you in a few,” she says, and shuts the door behind him.    
  
The inside of the room looks mostly like a regular doctor’s office, save for the pile of magazines near the sink and the obviously placed, medical looking, long, white tube of lubricant. Sighing, and resigning himself to his fate, Jellal reaches to look through the magazines. He’s never been one to seek out visual stimulation, but everything about the room feels so heavy and depressing, he figures a little help wouldn’t hurt.    
  
A few magazines into the pile, he finds several of the Swimsuit Editions of Sorcerer Weekly, and pulls his hand away like he’s been burned. Yikes. Skipping past that bunch, then.    
  
He finally settles on a gay-themed magazine with not too much leather but just enough muscle; Jellal isn’t sure when he started admiring bigger men so much; he’d never noticed a preference for that over a lithe body before. There’s not much he can do about it, he supposes; he’s in a situation that is quite the opposite of arousing, so if he responds to something, like tan skin, or the curve of a bicep, or the soft downy hair on a man’s chest; he’ll have to go with it.   
  
It takes a little while, but he does get settled, with the cup open and lube out. He never does get fully hard, or at least it feels that way. Like he’s not all the way there. He’s almost ashamed when he comes looking at a burly man’s rough, calloused hands, and scrambles for the cup in front of him.     
_   
  
The nurse was right; it doesn’t take them long to analyze the sample after he gives it to them.    
  
Twenty minutes later he’s walking back out into the waiting area, and Erza is standing there, reading a pamphlet. She looks up, sees him, smiles.    
  
“How’d it go?” she asks, softly, but she must see his face, because the next thing he knows he’s being enveloped in a bone-crushing hug. He holds her back, a little desperately, unsure why he’s even upset.    
  
“No dice, huh?” she says, and Jellal nods, laughing a little bitterly. His eyes wet the shoulder of her jacket.    
  
Erza pulls back, hands firm on his shoulders. “Alright. Let’s pay these fuckers and get out of here. Coffee’s on me.”   
_   
  
They sit on a bench in a nearby park, drinking coffee out of travel cups, as Erza tears into a croissant.    
  
“They weren’t even moving,” Jellal says, shaking his head. “I mean, they were wiggling, but not going anywhere, just stirring themselves around.”   
  
Erza gives a snort, trying not to choke on the pastry in her hand, which she quickly sets down. “Yeah. Kinda glad testing for me didn’t involve, you know. Having to do that. Still managed to be much more invasive, of course.” She swallows, shakes her head. “You know what the nurse said to me after the doctor gave me the news? After earlier appointments full of poking and prodding and samples, and then tests, and then coming back in... this woman sees me crying and she says, ‘I’m so sorry, sweetheart. It can be so difficult for barren women.’”    
  
Jellal raises his brows, feeling his quick intake of breath; Erza takes an angry sip of her coffee.   
  
“Barren,” Erza repeats, all but spitting the word. Her eyes start to go red, her voice shaking. “It’s like they want you to feel like nothing. ‘It can be difficult for barren women,’ yeah, fuck, if you’re calling them that.” She gives an angry grunt, denting her empty coffee cup.   
  
“Gods,” Jellal says. “Does Mira—“   
  
“I told her afterwards,” Erza says, leaning back on the bench seat. “She was. Well, she was surprised, then she was angry I just went all those times without even telling her, then she was sad and then she was angry again because she was worried about me.”   
  
Jellal hums, looking out at the yellowed grass in front of them.    
  
“She’s so kind to me,” Erza says, tears welling back up again. “She understands. Afterwards, she just; just held me. For so long. But still...” a deep sigh, like the emotion is trying to escape her body, but it’s too heavy. “Everything’s tense. I know she wants kids, even if she respects the fact that... that I’m not sure. Even seems to understand how I can be afraid of kids and still feel sad I can’t have them.”   
  
“I’m sorry,” Jellal says, because he can’t imagine trying to talk through all that, trying to make someone else understand what it meant to have lived a life like theirs.    
  
Erza curses. “Fuck. I’m so sorry. I already had my turn to cry; you just found out you’re sterile and I’m making it about me.”   
  
Jellal looks at her, surprised. “Oh, Erza... It’s fine. I mean, I’m not; I don’t think _I’m_ fine. But you can talk about how you’re... how you’re dealing. I don’t even know what to say, honestly, so maybe it’s for the best.”   
  
The woman hums, giving him a soft look. “Are you thinking about telling Erik?”   
  
A quick breath, in and out, and Jellal says, “I think I will. I just don’t know how long it’ll take me to do it, you know?”   
  
Erza nods, wrapping an arm around his side. She scuffs her shoes back and forth on the line between the concrete where the bench is anchored, and the grass spreading away from it. “Well, hey. Remember you can always get a hold of me. Shit, I know you hate it, but just walk straight into the guild, if you have to. I’ll be there.”   
  
“I know,” Jellal says, quietly, and musters a smile, small as it is, dipping his head onto her shoulder.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sexy times upcoming. At one point Jellal goes into subspace even though they aren't doing a scene. I just headcanon Jellal slipping under really easy when he's relaxed and trusting of his partner; plus there's a lot of feelings and relief and a little bit of praise kink. As subspace is an altered state of consciousness, Jellal acts very differently than he does normally. So... OOC but there's a reason for it bc subspace Does That.

When Jellal gets home, he goes after Erik’s mouth with an avarice that leads to Erik making a surprised, yet appreciative noise; and it’s not long before Jellal has him half undressed against the kitchen counter.    
  
“What’s gotten into you?” Erik asks, gaze a little hazy with lust, and instead of answering, Jellal gets down on his knees.    
_   
  
A little over a week passes; Jellal pushes his feelings into the dirt of the garden out back, sowing it through his sweat, bowed over in the sun, pruning and watering. He keeps eyeing the mint that sprawls across the section of herbs, noticing the buds of coming flowers. It’ll ruin the plant if it flowers, stop growing, go bitter; and he knows this, but he still can’t bring himself to cut off the buds, bright green and new.   
  
Instead, he digs up the carrots that are ready for harvesting, and takes them inside to be washed.    
  
He spends the rest of that day reading, waiting; thinks about trying to see Erza again, but dismisses it. Turns the book over in his hands, tries to occupy his thoughts, but he’s well enough aware he can’t run from them for long.   
  
Jellal doesn’t like thinking about kids. Ones that would be his, or otherwise. Thinking about kids means thinking about _being_ a kid, and that’s nasty territory, thorny and raw and nowhere he ever wants to go. Observing innocence like that only means the pain of remembering having your own taken from you. Doesn’t it? Or is there more; Milliana, as much pain as she went through, how she suffered as a child, must think so, if she wants one of her own; Shô, too, and after everything Jellal did to him. Is there something beyond that? That pain of seeing children _be_ children, as selfish as it is? _Can_ there be?    
  
Jellal rubs at his eyes, suddenly feeling very tired. He closes the book in his lap, sighing, and tries desperately to think of something else, but the pressure, the weight, still sits heavy in his chest. He falls asleep without meaning to, sitting upright in the bed he and Erik share, and when he wakes the lights are on and it’s dark outside and noises are coming from the kitchen, so Erik must be home.    
  
Jellal is still trying to clear the blur from his eyes, book dumped on the floor, when Erik comes into the bedroom, taking off his shoes and coat.    
  
“Tired today, huh?” the man says, and Jellal swallows.    
  
“Sometimes it’s better to just sleep it off when you’re in your own head, I guess.”   
  
Erik hums in agreement, toeing off his socks. “I see we’ve got more carrots.”   
  
“Yeah.” Jellal suppresses a lingering yawn. “Yeah, I think the yams will be ready soon too.”   
  
He watches Erik nod at this, the man shaking out the tension from the day, stretching a bit. “Put the groceries away. I wasn’t sure if you still wanted miso but I still got it just in case.”   
  
Jellal looks at him quietly, feeling struck dumb and unsure of what to say. Erik is turning toward him, face neutral as ever, and Jellal fights a breathlessness clamping down on his lungs.    
  
“Jellal?”   
  
“Yeah?”   
  
Erik is stepping forward, and Jellal scoots a bit to the edge of the bed to meet him, feeling pulled like a magnet.    
  
“Were you okay today?”   
  
Jellal swallows, looks Erik in the eye. “I don’t know.”   
  
“No?”   
  
“No.”   
  
Erik gives a slight nod, running a calloused hand through Jellal’s hair. “You know I’m not listening in, right? So I can’t know if you don’t tell me.”   
  
“I know,” Jellal says, sighing. “But not everything’s that easy.”   
  
“Maybe not,” Erik says, looking at him so softly, too softly, and Jellal leans into the curve of his hand.    
  
“Do want me to try?” It comes out soft and breathy, like a whisper. “To tell you, I mean?”   
  
Erik studies him for a moment, face difficult to read. “Only if you want to.”   
  
Jellal gives a punched laugh, shakes his head. “I think it’d be easier if you just demanded, honestly.”   
  
“Oh, maybe.” Erik gives a playful smile. “But since when do we do easy?”   
  
“Fair point.” Jellal clears his throat, suddenly feeling too tight in his own skin. He looks down, then back up at Erik, feeling hot and uncomfortable. “I can’t have children,” he says.    
  
Erik blinks, takes this admission in. “I didn’t think we could just the two of us anyways.”   
  
“Well, no,” and Jellal acquiesces a small smile, “but I mean with anyone. Even if it doesn’t matter. I can’t. And I thought you should know because... well, a lot of reasons.”   
  
Erik looks on at him curiously, moving to thumb at his pockets. “Like?”   
  
“You might be too,” Jellal admits quietly. “Infertile, I mean. So is Erza, she found out, and that’s why I went in, to get tested—“ he swallows here, suddenly feeling  guilty, “— and I should have told you, but it just felt so heavy, and the reason Erza found out is because she went in, because... Because other people, other people who were slaves in the Tower of Heaven, they’ve all been... infertile. Maybe something about the magic, or the stress.” He looks down, studying his fingertips. “Who knows, I guess.”   
  
He hears Erik take a deep breath above him, his face going set like stone. “Oh. Well... I mean. I never really thought I’d want kids. So I guess...  I don’t know. It’s not terrible.”   
  
“Me too, though, I don’t know if I could ever; ever handle having kids, but...” Jellal trails off, biting his lip. “I had to know, I guess. Can’t stand the not-knowing, you know?” He shakes his head. “I don’t know why it hurts. It shouldn’t, it really shouldn’t, but it does anyway.”   
  
Erik simply looks at him, and Jellal sucks in his breath, feeling overwhelmed.    
  
“Erik. Give me something, here, please.”   
  
Erik opens his mouth, looking a little surprised. “I; I’m sorry. I’m listening. With my regular hearing, I mean. I’m just... I’m listening.”   
  
“Okay,” Jellal says, too quietly. A moment, then—    
  
“It’s okay that it hurts,” Erik says. “It’s okay for it to hurt. It’s not fair, it’s shouldn’t have to hurt, but it’s okay if it does. Things don’t always makes sense.”   
  
Jellal’s eyes go hot, and he’s suddenly terrified he’ll cry, and that terror squeezes at his heart and seems to be what actually makes his eyes go damp.    
  
“You just... you think, someday, you’ll be ahead of the past.” Jellal gives a soft sigh, face burning. “It won’t be with you anymore. It won’t be able to keep holding you. But no matter what; it always.” His breath comes out a sob, which he quickly stifles. “It always, always finds a way to take something else from you. Something else you didn’t even realize you’d miss.” A shake of his head; angry and mournful. “It never stops taking from you.”   
  
Erik looks at him, face gone soft with sadness, and reaches up again to hold Jellal’s head in his hands. “I know. I know exactly what you mean. You know I do.”   
  
He’s right.    
  
“If you wanted a kid, I’d give you one,” Erik says, still looking at him tenderly. “Even if I was terrified. Even if I wasn’t sure I could do it. I’d do it for you, if I could, if you wanted.”   
  
“Gods, Erik,” Jellal says, and draws the other man in close to him, holding him so he can still see Erik’s face. Jellal gives a small chuckle. “It’s odd, because I know... I know I don’t have the right, well, equipment. But if you could give me one, if you could put a baby in me, would you?”   
  
A pause, and then Erik’s voice is all dark gravel, his eye gone soft in the warm artificial light. “That’s the scary thing. I think I’d give you anything you wanted. I really think I would.”   
  
“You could try your best,” Jellal suggests, all hushed prayer. He doesn’t say how he wouldn’t even know what to ask for, if Erik offered the world. He’d ask for a home, and hot bath, and he wouldn’t know what to ask after that. Erik knows better than him.    
  
“Do you want me to fuck you, make love to you, or both?” Erik asks, and isn’t that a question.    
  
“Both,” Jellal answers. It’s almost always both. “I want to feel you come in me like you’d die for it. Or maybe I always do, but now I think I need it, not just want it.”    
  
Erik’s eye goes hungry, so hungry, and Jellal wants be eaten up, stretched out and turned into nothing and nothing and nothing. Just fever and grace, barely resembling a man, left almost incorporeal on a pillow.    
  
“Breed me and fuck the past while you do it,” Jellal whispers, and he doesn’t care how insane it sounds, how odd it is, because he’s learned in the last few years that sometimes things are strange but they feel right and they heal you, and you have to just do it if it feels like that, because otherwise you’ll go crazy trying to find the light in the dark. Erik kisses him before he can keep ruminating on that, though.    
  
It’s so starving and craving and familiar all at once, like coming back to an addiction after a decade of being sober. They touch each other all the time but this is different, as clear as day, and Jellal moves with it, melts with it, becomes liquid in the want and the pull and push.    
  
His hands become impatient, pulling on Erik’s shirt, itching to touch his chest, all of him, and Erik breathes into his mouth as he moves back to get his clothing off. Jellal watches tanned skin emerge, and he moves to pull off his own shirt, slower than Erik; he feels heavy and self-conscious, Erik watching him carefully.    
  
It lights up his skin, all fiery flush, and Erik is pulling down on Jellal’s pant legs to help get them off. Erik’s hands are warm and rough on Jellal’s thighs, stark against his pale skin, and they send soft, wiry coils of pleasure up his sides. Erik is out of his own slacks in another moment, and then very soon they’re both nude, and Jellal has all the skin he wants, wrapping an arm over the other man’s broad shoulders.     
  
Erik kisses him again, sweeter this time, and slower, like he’s right where he wants to be. Jellal can’t help but wind his fingers through Erik’s hair, stroking the piece of skin behind his ear, ravenous hunger and deep affection all at once burning him up, but making it lovely. He’s already hard against Erik’s hip, their bodies pressed together, and then Erik is reaching for the lube in the bedside table.    
  
The man backs up, settling between Jellal’s legs, and although Jellal misses the feeling of hot skin on his own, he doesn’t miss the way Erik’s thumb strokes at his knee as a careful hand comes to rub at his opening. Jellal is well aware Erik can probably physically feel Jellal’s own nerves fluttering through his body, but he breathes, tries to keep his world still, and then a thick finger is gliding into him. He gives a small hum, a reassurance, and it isn’t long before Erik adds another finger to the first.    
  
This is one of the things Jellal likes best; Erik’s thick fingers in him, stretching and pulling him into some unknown new shape, pushing and stroking on all the right parts that make Jellal’s hips jump in the air, his legs twitching with the intensity. He’s breathing hard, breathless already, and he knows Erik drags it out a little longer than he needs to, stroking at Jellal’s insides until Jellal is sweating and flushed and feverish with need.    
  
Jellal can’t say he minds all that much.    
  
He tries not to moan when Erik pulls his fingers out, body going tight with anticipation again, but Erik knows Jellal’s body by now, knows how to handle every bit of tension, knows how to work it and mold it in his hands, kind and insistent and perceptive all at once. There’s the blunt feeling of Erik’s cock, slicked up, just resting outside him, and Jellal breathes, Erik leaning down to kiss him hard-soft, hand stroking easy over Jellal’s ribs.    
  
Then there’s that first push, his body relenting, accepting, and his skin sings with it, but he wants more already, wants it all, too foregone to feel embarrassed about being so insatiable. Erik rocks into him, pushing in slowly, slowly, and Jellal feels like maybe he stops breathing and then finally, all of him is resting inside Jellal’s body and that’s good, that’s so good. So full, so perfect, and he’s lucky Erik hasn’t figured out he’d beg on his knees just for this; because Jellal would, and he’d love every minute of it.    
  
A hand trailing on his thigh, lifting it up for the better angle, and then Erik is shoving a small pillow under Jellal’s hips. Jellal relaxes back, body buzzing and pliant, and Erik starts to rock into him again. The angle is electric, and still Jellal finds himself croaking out pleas, reaching for Erik’s hips, grabbing at his ass and trying to force him in deeper.    
  
“Greedy,” Erik says, smirk playing on his lips, and he’s right.    
  
“Always,” Jellal answers, pushing his hips back onto Erik’s cock, and that’s wonderful, leaving him moaning into the hot air. “More, more, please,” he begs, babbling, and Erik thumbs at his chin.   
  
“I got you, gonna take care of you, whatever you need,” he’s saying, and Jellal can’t breathe, hooking the leg lifted in Erik’s grip around the man’s hips, squeezing tight.    
  
“Breed me, fuck me,” and the words just keep coming, unbidden, things he thinks he doesn’t normally say, things he says a lot now probably but would’ve died of embarrassment to say them a few years ago when this started. “Take me apart, take me apart, give, give--”   
  
Jellal thinks it’s probably just nonsense after that, and Erik rocks into him harder, Jellal clawing at his back, needy and desperate.    
  
“Got you,” Erik says, and brings a hand down to jerk Jellal roughly, making him come hard, barely able to breathe. Time feels like slow honey, too sweet, too good to be true, and then everything is clenching and oversensitive but still he wants, wants and pants into Erik’s ear with it.   
  
“Come in me,” he’s saying, not noticing the tears slipping down his cheeks, body strung out and shaking, and he’s begging. “Come in me, come in me, come in me, Erik.”   
  
And Erik does, groans loud and long and grinds in; hard, tight circles; a new, springing heat lining Jellal’s insides. For a moment, Erik is still, panting into Jellal’s neck, and then he lowers himself gently, pulling out and rolling over onto his side.    
  
Jellal doesn’t want to put his hips down; wants to keep all that inside him, just for a minute, so he doesn’t move, arched back held up by the pillow under him. Erik is playing with his hair, running a hand through the sweaty strands. They stay like that for a few minutes, and then Jellal gets up to clean himself just a bit, and when he crawls back into bed the exhaustion hits him hard.    
  
He collapses next to Erik, sighing, and calls out a spell to turn out the light. It’s too hot, their bodies still thrumming, but Erik scoots close to him anyway, holding him.    
  
Jellal sighs, and sleep comes blessed and fast.    
_   
  
Jellal wakes to the morning light streaming in the window, sun turning everything gold. He blinks, eyes a little bleary, and Erik comes in, with tea and oatmeal.    
  
“Thanks,” Jellal says when Erik hands it to him, a little too quiet, but he means it. He eats quietly while Erik works on a banana, the silence comfortable. Jellal’s noticed that about them, the way it feels good to just be quiet, and it’s okay. They need a lot of quiet, he thinks, after everything they’ve been through.    
  
After they’ve finished eating, Jellal finds himself with his head in Erik’s naked lap, Erik playing with his hair.    
  
Jellal sighs, chest feeling light, and says, “When you say you’ll take care of me, it almost feels like you mean it.”   
  
Erik looks down at him carefully, all steadiness and rising to the challenge. “ _I do_ ,” he says.   
  
It’s not ten minutes later he’s moving in Jellal again; it’s slower this time, thick and sweet, but raw and still overwhelming. Jellal melts into it, feeling like he’s gone runny and liquid in the sun. Erik thrusts long and languid, perfect, perfect, sweat framing his brow. He smells like banana; tastes like it too, but it’s nice.    
  
“I got you, I got you,” Erik says, hands tender. “You do so great, take me so great, _fuck_ , so good.”   
  
A glowing-feeling is spreading up Jellal’s limbs, warm and syrupy, and in the back of his mind it’s a little familiar, but he can’t be bothered thinking. Time goes crawling, and the rhythm settles into hot, seeping pleasure that pulses and pulses, and Jellal is sinking, sinking, breathing in the gold of it. Erik is so pretty like this is the light. Jellal says so, or at least he thinks. He’s not really sure, but Erik gives him a half-hidden smile and that’s good, makes happiness ricochet around Jellal’s ribcage, so _good_.     
  
“Oh, _Love_ ,” Erik says, and the sunny-bright pulses in Jellal again, shimmering with joy, and yes, and _oh_.    
  
“You almost never call me that,” Jellal says, and it sounds funny, far away and all stretched out. Erik simply kisses him, and Jellal accepts it, takes it in and in, thinks he’ll never stop wanting for more of it, like he could lay here forever and just do this, especially if that’s what Erik wanted. He’d do it for him, definitely he would.    
  
When he comes it’s drawn out, still hazy, cresting and tangy-sweet. He simply breathes, smiles deep when Erik comes in him, feeling so warm, so floating-nice. Not long after, Erik is gripping at him, trying to get him up, but he doesn’t really want to. He goes, though, because Erik says he should, and then they’re in the bathroom and he sees Erik has drawn him a bath. It’s just right, and Jellal sinks into it, still glowing, half aware of the terribly dopey smile on his face while Erik helps him get clean. Then back to bed again, and Erik gives him a soft kiss, and things are clear enough now that Jellal knows he feels clean and tired and sore but good, and so he sleeps.    
  
When he wakes again, it’s midday, and Erik is wearing clothes now, reading something. He puts it down when he sees Jellal stirring, and Jellal stretches, and shit, the ache is really starting to set in, but it’s a good ache.    
  
“You went under there for a little while,” Erik says, mirth on his lips, and Jellal takes a moment in his foggy brain to remember and realizes yes, he’s right.    
  
“Yeah,” Jellal says, sitting up in bed. “Sorry. I didn’t realize that was gonna happen. I would’ve given you warning otherwise.”   
  
Erik shrugs. “It’s fine. I can handle you that way.”   
  
Jellal scrunches up his face, rubbing at his eyes. “It’s embarrassing.”   
  
“It’s cute,” Erik replies, moving in close to nuzzle at Jellal’s neck.    
  
“Maybe it’s infectious,” Jellal remarks. “You’re being all sappy too.”   
  
Erik frowns, but it’s all for show. “Not sappy,” he says. “Extremely masculine and caring.”   
  
“Yes, I’m bathing in your uttermost masculine caring energy,” Jellal snorts, laying his head on Erik’s chest. “Thank you, by the way. For everything, I guess. But especially for last night, and today, too.”   
  
“Well, it wasn’t exactly a burden,” Erik says. “I thought you might’ve noticed that, because I left quite a bit of evidence of how much I enjoyed it.”   
  
Jellal gives a sly glare and annoyed smile Erik’s way, waving his hand. “Yeah, yeah. You’re very funny.” He shakes his head. “But I mean it. Thanks for making the difficult things a little easier, even when it’s weird.”   
  
“I think weird is the only way we can do things, sometimes,” Erik shrugs. He pauses, hand wandering to hold Jellal’s fingers, stroking over his knuckles. “We’ll have to tell the rest of them, you know.”   
  
Jellal sighs. “I know. I really do.” He swallows, tries to bring back that calm feeling in his chest. “Maybe it would be better coming from you. I don’t know.”   
  
“Maybe,” Erik says. “But that’s for tomorrow. Right now we have today. You don’t have to worry about it. Today, let’s just exist.”   
  
“Yeah?”   
  
Erik gives him a half-annoyed, half-enamored grin. “Yeah.”   
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They're gross and dumb but I love them. I can't believe this crackship is honestly fully endgame for me now like... Why have I done this to myself. Also, Erza and Mira totally eventually adopt a kid. 
> 
> This was kind of a weird experiment so let me know what you think! I'm trying to fight my embarrassment over writing what I want, lmao, help me. I'm legitimately self conscious about how many of my fics are FT, and especially how many are Explicit, overall. Makes me feel like a bad writer for some reason even though fanfiction is supposed to be for fun. Whoops.


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